Celebrian, Wife of Elrond, and the Heir of Sauron
by fireweilder
Summary: Based on facts written by J.RR Tolkien. About the last travels of Celebrian. *Chapter 14: Raksha is summoned. And she's not happy*
1. The Warning of Elrond

Disclaimer: The works of any characters of the books Lord of the Rings belong to the great J.R.R Tolkien and his family.

Note: This story is written based on the facts written by J.R.R Tolkien in Appendix A and B from Return of the King

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Celebrian, Wife of Elrond and the Heir of Sauron

Fireweilder

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Book One

" The Watch of Gondor has stopped but Sauron's men would have never had the time to put forth such an act against the free peoples of Middle Earth. Not so soon. Time is still left for one last travel."

Elrond smiled at his wife Celebrian, strong as in the days of elder. Though his heart felt something forewarned, he would not deny her one last travel. The second days of peace were ending. A new power, for good or evil, would rise and their age would end. To that there was no hope.

"Let her go Father," pleaded Arwen, "I see some terror in your eyes. That which I have never seen and hope never to see again. But let her go. Let her once more wander the woods of Lothlorien and wade the river Nimrode. Let her weariness be washed from her."

"Is it such horror to look upon Rivendell in spring that my kin decide to leave?" said Elrond, smiling at his child.

"Nay, but such wonders of this world can not be seen in one small place. The wonders are spread and wide so that one would never see them all," said Elladar, entering from inside with his brother Elrohir.

"And you Elrohir. What say to your mother's leave? Silence has befallen you on this matter?"

Elrohir had been staring out into the eastern clouds, as if to penetrate them. But not even Elven eyes could pierce ash and smoke, into the realm of Sauron. Too few wished to do so anyway. He tore his gaze away and turned as his name was called.

"Sorry, but something silences me on this matter. I fear for your return," he said crossing the floor to his mother's side. "But I see only longing in your eyes, so go. I can only bid thee a farewell and beg for your swift return."

With that, he turned toward Elrond and said, " I can only suggest an elven escort, led by Nirthen. Whispers speak evil of Redhorn Pass."

Hearing his son confirm his fears, Elrond followed his pass gaze and landed upon the East again. Sauron was stirring again. He didn't know it but he felt it. The servant of the first dark lord, Morgoth, had covered the land in such fear at the end of the second age. Such fear that the world could not survive another reign of his power. But perhaps the terror would come. Then that of Man, Dwarf and all the free people would join the dying race of elves.

" You shall see the glory of Lothlorien this spring, guided by which ever path you see fit," he said, turning from the darkness of east to his wife's immortal face. "But fly back with wind. It is a shame to miss even Rivendell in the spring."

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Thank you, more will soon follow. The next chapters will be much more entertaining. I promise.


	2. The Conversation in the Night

Disclaimer: I do not own any character having to do with Lord of the Rings. These characters and plots belong to the departed J.R.R. Tolkien and his family.  
  
Note: The chapters concerning the travels of Celebraian are true facts written by Mr. Tolkien. I simply exaggerated them and made a story out of two lines of facts.  
  
Celebrian, Wife of Elrond and the Heir of Sauron  
  
Fireweilder  
  
Continual whispers of rumor passed through Rivendell like the north wind, bringing little joy and much bitter cold. Rumors of Orcs gathering in the Misty Mountains and the Nagul coming into the world again. Elrond knew not where from but he now started to share Elrohir's feeling of fear about Celebrain's travels. Such a sickening feeling consumed him that he felt weak and vulnerable when he thought about her day of departure.  
  
On the night before Celebrian left, Elrond could not sleep so he walked the long path under the night sky at Rivendell.  
  
'Scouts have reported with no news of an upraise, as you know Elrond, yet you still fear something dark. What is this fear?" asked a whisper in the shadows.  
  
"Celebrian, come walk with me. I need some company tonight." He said, turning to the white figure of his wife. She had been standing under the vine-entwined gate that led into the gardens. She took his had and led him through the gate and tried to calm his fears as he told them to her.  
  
" I promise I will return before long. You will hardly miss me. I promise. Besides," she said, laughing slightly, " No Orcs could penetrate the guards you have sent with me."  
  
Seeing that this still didn't ease his mind, she released his hand and sat on a pearl stoned bench, motioning for him to do so also. Slowly, the singing of the Elven song drifted over the valley ad down into the garden where they sat. They chanted an old song about the land of Lothlorien, in honor of Celebrian's journey tomorrow.  
  
Deathless are the golden trees  
  
Wrought by the golden lady  
  
Lady Galadriel who traveled the seas  
  
Sought by the western man  
  
Lotlorien! Jewel from the Elven home  
  
May your lord and lady protect  
  
By the power of Neya be shone  
  
Stay in grace in Lothlorien  
  
Lothlorien! Wonder of the ages  
  
Keep in our heart forever  
  
Tales written in the mortal pages  
  
Seek the jewel from the sea!  
  
" Our ages have lasted long since the Eldern Days, Elrond. Soon, the sea will not be denied to both our hearts. Our home calls all of our people. Time, it seems, has finally turned its back on us." Smiled Celebrian, looking into Elrond's face  
  
"Still time has not swayed all true gifts from the Eldern days. No time can diminish such beauty." Whispered Elrond, kissing the top of Celebrian's brow.  
  
"Nor has it over you" said Celebrian, breaking out from his embrace and standing. A sudden chill swept through the gardens and whipped into the fair skin of the lord and lady of Rivendell. "But time no longer wishes for our foot steps here. Against time, not even the mountains can stand. This journey will be my last, Elrond. I promise. Will this be the last time you wait for me?" she asked, scanning his face for the answer she wished to hear.  
  
But such answer did not come.  
  
"Time has not released me, Celebrian. A purpose, for wrong or good, still roots me to this earth. It will not let me leave until that time."  
  
"Have all kindred such hope. If so, then why do so many flee from their purposes and not you?"  
  
"Few are left to dream such an unlived purpose, but some still hold it here. Many of the younger have felt this, even Arwen and Elrohir."  
  
Smiling again, Celebrian took up his hand and led him back to the gate.  
  
"Then who I am I to fail hope. A purpose unknown? I wonder if it is still waiting for me. I promise I will not leave here until such purpose is known and brought forth."  
  
As the sun finally rose over the valley's cusp, Elrond led his wife back inside for rest. But still no rest came to him. Still he walked outside. No sleep could take him now.  
  
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Thanks to my reviewers! More action coming in the next two chapters but it might be a while. Sorry I got to write chapter 5 and onward. I HAVEN'T EVEN GOTTEN TO THE GOOD PART YET!  
  
P.S. Read anything written by the writer under the name Minka. You won't regret it! 


	3. The Departure of Celebrian

Disclaimer: if you want a list of things I own, email me. But for a list of things I don't own, you still have to email me.  
  
Notes: took a long time to upload but I don't think anyone cares…  
  
Celebrian, Wife of Elrond, and the Heir of Sauron  
  
Fireweilder  
  
In the morning of Celebrian's depart, all the kin of Rivendell sought to bid her farewell and haste in her return. They hid themselves in the trees and riverbanks, singing the unseen lament of goodbyes. They lined themselves from Rivendell heading East toward Lothlorien, home of the elven lady.  
  
As she approached, the people bowed before her. To most of them, they bowed because they were blinded by such light shining from the armor of her guard. The elves loved their lord and lady too much that security would always be called plentiful. To the ones who knew her well, they saw not in blindness, but the light shining from her face. It was alight with such joy that had long ago been destroyed.  
  
"Peace, children of ages gone!" hailed Celebrian, circling around to face her people. "I swear the moon shall not wane thrice before the wind sings of our return. Till then may light forever shine from your houses! But dear Nirthen, where are my children and my lord?" she said, turning back to the leader of the elven guard. Nirthen had lived nearly as long as Rivendell its self and had fought for both her and Elrond safety may years before.  
  
Standing above the river Bruinen stood Elrond with his arms around Arwen and Ellador. A short ways away from them was Elrohir, clad in an unusual black, facing the river below. He only raised his darkened sight when he heard his name pierce through the crowd's noise. He saw his mother, with a look of such concern that it frightened him, start to unhorse herself and rush to where they stood. But she turned back when Elrohir lifted his head, waved to her family and sped off to Lothlorien. Such a cheer went up from the people of Rivendell, that she couldn't hear his shout after her, his last warning. Distressed, he fled back down the bridge and tore through the house of Rivendell.  
  
Elrond started to go after him, realizing a deep disturbance, but Arwen caught his arm. Elladar was still singing along with the people after Celebrian, so Arwen whispered to Elrond, "Stay here father. I think that now only I can confront Elrohir."  
  
Before he could respond, she swept quickly from his grasp and followed the same steps of Elrohir.  
  
Elrond tore his eyes away from Arwen and looked back to Celebrian. Her eye didn't look back now; such was the custom to not look back once a journey is started. A feeling of deep regret filled him and again the presence of an unexplainable and unreasonable fear awake in his heart. Gravely lifting his hand, he spoke in a clear call to the retreating guards.  
  
A Elbereth Gilthoniel  
  
Silivien penna mirel  
  
O menel aglar elenath  
  
Na- chaered palan- direl  
  
O galadhremmin ennorath  
  
Fanvilos, le linnath  
  
Net aear, si net aearon!  
  
" Goodbye my love. Pray that your purpose be found on your journey. Such purpose will stay your heart and will."  
  
Inside, Arwen was cradling Elrohir's crying form. 


	4. The Darkness of Day

Disclaimer: see page one

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Celebrian, Wife to Elrond and the Heir of Sauron

Fireweilder

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In Dwinordene, In Lorien

Seldom have walked the feet of men

Few mortal eyes have seen the light

That lies there ever, long and bright

Galadriel Galadriel!

Clear is the water of your well

White is the star on your white hand

Unmarred, unstained is leaf and land

In Dwinordene, In Lorien

More fair than the thoughts of mortal man!

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For ten days has the Elves sang from the valley of Rivendell, as if to draw their mistress, Celebrian, back from her journey to her homeland of Lothlorien. No news has reached them since her departure, for good or evil. Elrond thought this to be unusual for his wife to do, but tried to think nothing of it.

Straining his far seeing eyes across the land, he looked toward Redhorn Pass, where she should have been passing today. As the sun crept slowly over the mountains, Elrond thought he saw its rays reflect of a blade of steel and shadows moving slowly across the Pass. It despaired in his heart to see it but he knew that whatever terror could befall his wife would have to be dealt out by her hand. Only the eagles could overtake her now.

Taking his eyes from the Pass, he turned his eyes to the East, the land of terror. He had long felt as if the evil was indeed returned from the destroyed land of Numenor. Elrond felt no desire to even strain his eyes to look into the land, but he felt as if he had no choice but to find the land being brought closer to his face. He saw the mountain of terror and even the foundations of the Dark Lord's tower. He saw the tower, Minas Ithil, gleaming like a spiked jewel in darkness. He had always called the tower by its former name since the resent name tasted like bittersweet honey on his lips.

Allowing the song of the elves to wash the memories out from his mind, his mind shifted to the small white figure standing in hi doorframe. For days had Arwen been comforting her brother from his constant sorrow with no a veil.

"How is he, Arwen? Does still he weep for some nameless fear?" asked Elrond, crossing swiftly to his daughter, "Will he still stay in darkness so he cannot relive the light?"

Arwen looked up slowly to meet her father's face. For the past ten days, her brother's sobs have allowed her little to no sleep. Now every movement she made had to be slow and planned to use up as little energy as possible.

"Father, he fears the light because he has seen it," was her response before she fell forward, grappling with the front of Elrond's robes and sliding slowly to the floor. Elrond slowly pulled her hands from his chest and carefully took her up in his arms. He placed her gently on the wooden bench outside where the voices of the elves would be there when she awoke. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"What evil makes one weep so that the sun refuses his face and the moon shins with new tears? 'Tis no common for such sorrow to over come a kin for such long times. Reveal to me what this burden is and start to live again as one of the ageless son of the eldern should."

"True. It is a burden to known truth when lies give less sorrow, but it is only my burden to bear, father. No, I can not let the light spread to cause only more darkness," said Elrohir, still not daring to look straight into his father's eyes. But Elrond needed only his sorrow laid voice to tell him what it was laden with.

"Ten days since your mother's departure have you wept for. I guess that sorrow is following her departure?" asked Elrond, even as if he already knew the answer.

Elrohir had had sleepless nights but still had kept his own personal horror to himself. But when faced with hi knowing father, he found he could keep it no longer. He turned to face Elrond with fresh sorrow laid on his face.

"Whispers that manage to gallop to Rivendell should not always be push aside as nothing. Not when they travel from keener and older minds then mine. Thirteen days ago, the wind lord, Gwaihir, flew to me in haste, telling me of a new evil lurking in Redhorn Pass. He trusted me to deliver the message to you. He told of Orcs in the Pass, refusing departure and entrance from and to Eriador."

Elrond felt as if he knew the rest of the tale, so he allowed the sorrow to be felt on his heart.

"No one can pass through the Pass now. I would have told but the joy on her face troubled my heart. I thought she might make it soon enough…"

Elrohir now turned and rose form his seat. He walked slowly, as his sister had done, for he too had gotten little sleep in the past ten days. He managed to walk to the open aired balcony before collapsing against the railing. Elrond, as if walking through thick fog, hardly let the gasps of his son reach his ears. He now felt darkness filling the room, as if the sun was never to shine again. Elrohir managed to cry out to his silent father before sinking in to sleep.

"Father, can at least a forgiveness be granted to my foolishness. My ignorance to the warning's importance."

"No." said Elrond, looking toward his son with the light gone from his eyes. Elrohir fell into sleep before he noticed Elrond get up. The failure he now felt consumed Elrohir after hearing his father's response and felt as he could now give up.

Elrond slowly walked to the door but felt as if he should not leave his son with the horrors of failure on him. He did forgive him but he felt as if it was not Elrohir who need to be forgiven. Elrond turned back to gather his son on the balcony and brought his back to his bed.

"You do not deserve forgiveness for the fault can only be mine. My ignorance of you was our failure. Now only I can remember it. That is my gift to you."

Placing his long white hand over Elrohir's eyes and the other gripping the back of his neck, Elrond made sure the memory swept clear of his son's memory. He felt Elrohir stir in his sleep but soon was still as a new sleep swept over his mind.

Thus the information of Gwaihir passed from Elrohir's remembrance.


	5. The Blood Horn Pass

Disclaimer: Too lazy to write that I don't own Lord of the Rings again… read page 1

With neither call nor signal, the thirty- one elven guard stopped, straining once more to for the repeat of the sound. For the ten days of their journey to Red Horn Pass, sounds had been following, though seldom did they ring for the first seven days. Faint they were now but still sounded of harsh tones and uncouth language. 

In irritation, Celebrian turned back her horse to the back of the party, planning to be followed by sounds no more. But her path now was forced blocked by her guard Nirthen, son of Malbung, son of the guilty one. 

"Listen no more for the sounds, my lady, and seek them not. For the silence is pressing me onward with great haste and great haste shall be met or red shall the next dawn be, for blood has stained the western sea."

"Haste and a great silence," replied Celebrian, turning back to the front of the party," for this silence isn't right. It seems to chill me through my marrow."

Signaling a continuation their journey, Nirthen raised his hand. But the party suddenly rang with a sharp snap from the woods on their left. Immediately six scouts, wielding blinding white knives, jumped from horseback and sprang through the branches as deer in a well-known wood. Now Nirthen faced his horse at Celebrian's rear guard, fearing a great attack should come from their backs. All the party now had bows taught and few with knives drawn. Only Celebrian at this time unshielded her sword, Angarauko, the iron demon. Skilled smiths had created all the swords for the kin of their master Elrond, yet in Celebrian's they took amazing pride, for the weapon seemed to respect its master and fly as the emotion of the wielder. Should such a fey mood take one, the sword would never stop staining till earth collapsed under it. They said that it was made to remember the spear Aeglos of Gil- galad, since the white blade was never stained with the blood of its victims. 

Strange indeed it was thought of elven maidens to wield such weapons since they had since been used more by the race of man. But fate it had seemed to have her wield it since she did so with amazing grace that it near sang in battles. Even as Celebrian looked at it, lost in its own lore, the scouts called out from the woods.

"Nirthen!" they called

"What did you find? Is the route still clear?" he called back

"Nay, my lord, come and see, then let us ride."

Swiftly entering the wood, Nirthen saw the other scouts, two of which were now bending over four fallen bodies. Coming closer, he saw they were once the bodies of Orcs, but now had been beheaded and cut crudely in many ways. Now they seemed to no longer bare resemblance.

"Ride! Ride now to your lands! To Lothlorien! The Orcs are upon the mountain pass! Ride!" he shouted while running with the remaining scouts back to where the horses stood. Leaping upon his horse, it reigned in terror for now it smelled the approach of the Orcs from all the sides, closing in on them. But Nirthen forced them onward, raising his hand to call the party on with him.

Suddenly from the right, a single Orc appeared before them, his bow drawn with deadly aim. But the elven guards were now on guard and shot him with skill before his shot could aim properly. So fey it flew past his target of Celebrian and instead into Nirthen's raised hand, pinning it with its black feathered shaft.

"Ride!" He now bellowed to the rest. Straining against the pain, Nirthen pulled the deadly arrow from his hand. Now he could clearly see the forms of many great beasts and swarms of Orcs encircling him. His last order had been carried out and the party now was swiftly leading Celebrian away from the clearing to the pass. 

Celebrian now looked over her shoulder to see Nirthen, blood streaming down his fore arm and fire springing from his sword, turned now to face the oncoming Orcs. He swiftly unshielded his sword and brandished in front of the Orcs. Indeed now the Orcs doubted their lives in the face of a great and terrible Elf lord. 

But before Celebrian could charge to his side, the leader of the mountain Orcs crashed through the trees with even more soldiers. Yelling in mixing and clashed tones, he charged Nirthen with his followers close at his heels. 

"Aure entuluva! Ride" he cried with his fatal last words as he too rode toward the leader, flames jumping from both helm and sword.

Folly it seemed to Celebrian for his safety but she was a kin to Elrond and no coward had she yet beseeched to. Raising her sword and fell voice, great but terrible as a storm, she called the host to her. To fight.

But the Orcs came upon them from all sides now and broke their way through the guard. Many were slain to protect their lady but still did the hilt of a sword come upon her. To the ground she fell, her eyes closing before the dawning of the red dawn.


	6. The Cave of Doom

A great thanks to all whom read. Makes me glad to know someone else does.

Disclaimer: I own the entire world.

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Celebrian, Wife to Elrond, and the Heir of Sauron

Fireweilder

The dim lights that shone through Celebrian's eyelids was not a greeting sign for her consciousness. It taunted her, whispering for sleep to take her over once more. But the putrid smell of blood, sweat and ash stung her nose and struck her mind. Her hearing picked up distant gurgles, if such they were, since it was uncouth to listen to and san of great discord. He also noticed with odd sensation that she stood a foot above the ground, hands and ankles firmly chained to the wall.

Then the feelings in her limbs returned, realizing the sharp jagged rocks of the wall's surface and cut themselves deeply into her back and shoulder blades. Warm blood was gushing from her forehead and mixed with the blood from her back, sliding down her legs and forming ominous pools at her feet.

She now found that not even her eyes would obey her will for she could not muster the strength the open them. But she soon felt the blood flowing from her cut forehead and crusting over her eyelids. It took most of her strength to open them into catlike slits, but it would have been better to follow the sleep. 

The site that met her was fearful even to the stout elf maiden. Three great shapes loomed over a newly burning fire, each pawing at each other and at the articles spread about the cave. The burning of some foul meat made her eyes sink back into darkness and her throat constrict with sickness. But the smell swayed in front of her face, not moving but ever pushing up her nose. Forcing the sense out of her mind she once more forced her slits to break through the newly crested blood. 

The argument had now been settled between the shapes and each was grasping a great bundle at their feet. But they now turned to the foul meat they had been burning. One of the shapes caught sight of Celebrian hanging behind one of his companions and growled something to the others. They too turned to look at Celebrian and all let out a howl of laughter as the first rose to his feet, his meat in one had and a flaming brand in the other.

As he neared her, Celebrian could finally recognize the features of the being. He was an Orc of higher rank, judging by the way he ruled. Approaching the elf, he thrusted the brand close to Celebrian's chest, scorching what little cloth had remained. He thrust the meat to her mouth, but only touching her tightly clenched lips. He held it there, making sure the elf would breath the horrid fumes it belched. When the time came when Celebrian could not stand her lack of air any longer, she separated her lips in the slightest to embrace the oxygen. But the Orc had been watchful. The moment her lips parted, he pushed the meat violently in to her mouth, nearly choking her. Celebrian felt chunks of meat fall into her mouth and down her throat with no possibility of stopping the retched thing from slipping down her throat. 

Satisfied, the Orc grinned evilly and sulked back to his place at the fire among the great laughter of his companions. Celebrian, though disgusted at the taste in her mouth from the meat, was quick enough to catch sight of the bundles that lay near the fire. On the top of one bundle she saw a flash of silver. Looking closer, Celebrian saw to her horror that it was a pin she had seen maybe times. The pin was that of the high elves, the two trees of light intertwined as one. The pin of the Rivendell guard leader. Long had Nirthen wore such pin…

But no more, Celebrian cried bitterly against the hopelessness of her situation. The son of the ill-fated one is free. The ill fated to the ill fated protect. 

Then, the horrors of what had happened became a realization. The meat…the meat was not that of a beast. No, it was the meat of a victim. The Orcs can care for any meat weather it be beast, man…

Or that of elves.


	7. The Last Defence

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Disclaimer: See page one if you really want to know what you already know

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Notes: Many bows and kisses to those of you who got creeped out by the last chapter. Makes me very happy.

Celebrian, Wife of Elrond, and the Heir of Sauron

Fireweilder

Suddenly, Celebrian felt her wrist go free. Falling forward, an unbearable pain surged itself up her leg, forcing itself into her head and making her scream shrilly from the incredible pain. The Orc who had freed her hands was standing beside her fallen body laughing along with his companions at the helpless elf before his feet. Although he had freed Celebrian hands from the jagged wall, he had left her ankles chained a foot above the ground, letting the weight of her body cause her ankles to shatter.

The flesh around her foot tore open, spilling the purest red from her open wound. The Orc kneeled beside her would and madly slashed the cruel ropes that bound her to the wall, succeeding in nearly detaching her left foot from her being. 

Celebrian's body laid crumpled on the dark, rough cave floor, beside herself with pain, horror and grief. For hours she was allowed to lie on the floor, swimming in her own blood. The blood from the floor now completely covered her face and crusted over all her openings. She could no longer see, speak or smell anything but her blood. She stopped her ears from hearing. She had heard enough in those caves to last her the rest of her life, immortal or not. 

She had heard the countless cries of her guards, echoing from the walls and cracks. Wails started to pierce her mind and haunted her till her last days. She heard the voice of one, a friend of hers from an age long gone by, screaming for hours with no breath in between. Finally, a great strike was sounded and his voice was forever lost, another soul for Mandos to take. 

This she dwelled on, while the unseen pain clouded her mind, through the mud and blood. The horrible sent of everything in the cave overwhelmed her, stabbing her, slashing open new wounds. She could feel a great darkness closing in around her. She saw a light, a strange light. 

But what light it was she never knew. Some say that it was the face of Manwe, lover of the elves. Or perhaps it was the light of Laurelin and Telperion, intertwined, as they were when the world was new. Or…perhaps madness had taken her and she saw her mother's face, now dissolved into a sad memory.

But Celebrian never told what it was she saw. The Orcs shook her up from her bloody grave, setting her upon her broken feet. She cried s she was forced to apply pressure on her tender bones, already splintered like wood. She fell back into her pool, hitting her had hard against the floor. Praying to Elbereth that she would now be left for dead, she started to fall into her death. But not even Orcs would allow the Elf mistress a quick death. No, they had been ordered to bring her to a much worse fate then she could have ever perceived.

*****

They took Celebrian by the roots of her hair and, half-dragging, half carried her down the deep caves of the Misty Mountains. Celebrian's sight was now starting to fail her, the darkness affecting her once keen eyes. She notices that the darkness was growing greater and the air was pushing un-welcoming against her. Soon they were so deep that she started gasping for each breath. Even the Orc that held her seemed to be having troubles with the pressure. 

Suddenly, he collapsed against the floor, landing on top of Celebrian's body. Luckily, Celebrian was quick enough to miss hitting her head painfully against the floor. The Orc was not so lucky. 

As she struggled to her feet under the weight of the Orc, Celebrian realized how different the cavern they had entered was different from the other chambers of the Orc caves. A fearful presence filled her heart and the unpleasant idea that she was being watched consumed her mind. Hastily, she started back to where she had been dragged in. Her foot hit loudly against the armor of her dead kidnapper. Armor was that was left of him now. His body now was only black ashes that were swept away by an unfelt wind.

Celebrian suddenly was lifted from the ground and slammed into the wall, which had only shortly before been a door. A force kept her head bent, looking down at the Orc's armor. She felt a shadow pass her head, her cheek. She shuddered not only from its coldness but also from the coldness that was being felt by her heart.

But the shadow did more then that, for the shadow was more then that.

He raised her head with one slender finger, his eyes boring into her clear blue ones. She gasped then began to scream and sob bitterly. She slashed with every dying strength. She would not be taken. Never.

But the Dark Lord could wait. He had waited many years already. He could wait longer for the she- elf to lose all the strength she had ever had, leaving her weaker then the ghosts of men. He could wait for his chance at immortality, his heir raising his throne of the land after him. And after him, and after him, so his reign would last forever.

And what he did…

The elves never knew. Celebrian dared never to speak of her entrapment in the Orc cave. Never told of what happened when the eyes of the Dark Lord met hers. Never told how he took her then, when all strength had gone in vain attempts of defiance. Never told how she was responsible for the death of every person in middle earth.

Never told how in the darkness of the Orc caves, she and the Dark Lord created an heir of terror and darkness, more dangerous then the Orcs of Morgoth or the eagles of Manwe.

She gave birth to Sauron, the end of Middle Earth.


	8. The Hope Reborn

Disclaimer: Don't ask

Celebrian, Wife to Elrond, and the Heir of Sauron

Fireweilder

For nine months had the sons of Elrond rode through the Misty Mountains, searching futile for any sign of their mother. But in vain had the past months been. Vain in which they had been sent, and in vain the now feared they would return home. Long had the help of the Dundain been needed but few weeks have they granted to the search and even then it was early in the chase. 

But now winter was upon their backs now, and the new threat of melting snow banks, cause the dim trail to be lost. The scent was old beyond reckoning and the twists and turns of the mountains gave no new greetings. Despair now took the Mountain pass and overcame both hearts alike.

"It is ended then?" asked Elrohir, standing from his crouched position on the ground. Age-old footprints were still embedded leading south, but ended only three steps further. The snow had destroyed the rest.

Elladan gazed madly at his brother. The kidnap of Celebrian had fallen most heavily upon Elladan, the more childish of the two. He possessed knowledge of her travels that Elrohir was forced to forget. They had been closer, Elladan and Celebrian. 

But he was forced to realize the truth in Elrohir's words. It was too late now.

"We shall wait ten more days, and pray to Elbereth for something, if not anything." He replied, setting off toward the wood with Elrohir falling in line behind him.

*********

"What do you think father will say?" asked Elladan to his brother behind him. Ten days had past and the road toward home never looked so un-welcoming.

"What will he say? I do not know. I do not think he could have hoped for anything else after the past nine months." He replied, his voice being drowned out by the echoes of the mountain wind. 

"Elrohir? I…I wish that…that we were not so young." Stammering Elladan, stopping dead on the trail, his head bent with the weight of his tears. 

"I wish…we didn't have to go home…like this." With that, he could bear it no longer. From this quiver, he with drew his silver dagger and threw it mercilessly at the nearest thing that moved.

The finch never left the ground.

"I can not do this!" he was now screaming at Elrohir, tears swimming down his cheeks and chest. 

"Peace! Peace brother! Do you not think I too have been tormented in every night, the wretchedness of this mountain tearing my soul? The Orc voices, I can hear them at night. They mock our emotions, brother." He said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let us rest one more night here. Once more, then never to return."

*

"NEVER!" screamed a voice, both unearthly and fell.

In movements in which the ground rumbled and the sea shook, the trees in front of them fell, pulled up by their roots. Bows were taught, and daggers were retrieved. 

But silenced followed.

But silence can not fool desperate ears. The sons sped on, their hearts beating wildly to the scream of the wood. Fey, they thought, and fey it was that a clearing upon their mists arrive. 

Who was more took back, the sons or the Orcs, no one could have dared assume. But it was the Orcs that day that not be around to guess. Blood littered the ground and the screams and rants of the black tongue accursed the spot where they died. Bows sang and the dagger shown, and so mad were both he brothers that not one Orc was left, not those who retreated or begged. 

But it was after the dust had settled and the blood had dried, that the brother's doom was indeed fulfilled. Embedded to the nearest tree, was a maiden. A white maiden, old and aged beyond such years. Crude spears and arrows protruding from every angle embodied in the trunk aside her. And one, one red arrow, protruding from her side.

Thus the sons were at last reunited with the lost mother.

They rushed to her side, the tears and laughs drowned the wind. Careful did they unwind her mangled body from her prison and lo! She opened her eyes, staring into the faces of those whom she has loved. 

"Elladan?" she asked, tentative, as if questioning her knowledge.

Elladan grasped her hand. "Yes?"

"Where is your brother?"

Elrohir knelt down to her body, not accustom to letting his mother see him cry. 

"Rest mother" was all he could think to say, the words slipping with little ease off his tongue. 

With that, Celebrian obeyed, and drifted back into darkness

From behind them, a white sound was heard. A voice, soft and terrible, trumpeted out from the white light. The brothers stood, bow once more taught, fearing anything to endanger what they had now found. 

"Be at peace, sons of Elrond and of Celebrian! Peace!" cried the voice. The sons dropped to their knees, weapons clanging on the soft mold. Thus did the brothers behold the herald of Manwe, Eonwe, know by voice and hardly by sight. Manwe then did appear and the brothers cast themselves on the ground. 

"Rise." And so they did

"You were willing to wait forever, were you not?" he asked

None of them dared to answer

From the silence Manwe laughed, and all was glad again. The brothers dared to see and be embraced. 

"For which," the lord continued "you shall be sent home. Her life is in your hands now."

With a final bow, the Lord was gone, ad the brothers now stood on the bridge of Bruinen, Celebrian gripped tightly in Elladan's arms


	9. The Cure to the Faithless

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! STOP ASKING!

Notes: All right, that's it! I though you people would have enough imagination to come up with your own ways to answer how Celebrian survived from losing a large amount of blood. But since you all seem too daft, I will explain. Celebrian had many small cuts around her head, but they had stopped bleeding freely since the blood crusted around her face already. The cuts on her back were bleeding but not as freely as they were before. As for the blood from her ankles, they were pretty grievous, but since Sauron didn't want his carrier to die before she gave birth, he healed them. The greatest amount of blood she lost was from her ankles when she was lying on the floor waiting for death. Keep in mind she was not lying there for too long. 

****

Celebrian, Wife to Elrond, and the Heir of Sauron

Fireweilder

Elrond rushed from his chamber, his heart beating so madly upon his chest. Celebrian? Home? How could such a wonderful thing come so unlooked for? 

The voices of Rivendell were silent, as they had never been in all his years. The silence pounded him, beating him mercilessly into the ground. Should not the voices be swelled in great joy if indeed their mistress has returned? Why were they silent? Why…

Elrind finally escaped the prison of his house, entering the alcove before the bridge. Upon it, there stood his sons. His sons? They were so different now. Indeed, the year had past fast on the lords, for boys they were no longer. No longer would he even dream of calling them his sons, though by blood they were. They were their own masters now.

The taller of the lords clutched in his hands a red figure. His once green robes now were black from the blood devoured by them. The other was crouched on the ground, leaning on his bow to keep from falling from weariness. Both looked up when they heard their names echoing through out the valley.

As though walking through a mist, Elrond grasped uncertainly to the bridge, nearly crawling toward his sons. Approaching then, Elrond slowly touched the brow of his wife. The coldness of her brow snapped his mind back into the present, the darkness giving way to the light.

"Elrohir?" he asked the once son who stood before him. Never before had the sight of his son frightened him. His blood stained face and the deep fire in his eyes almost caused him to back down 

"Elrohir, please."

There they stood, both great lords in each their own power. To anyone who watched, it seemed as if time had stopped. The enormous stones of old, piercing each other's mind. The elves of Rivendell hide then selves from the possibility of a great clash of wrath, for they two knew of the great power each heir contained.

But it was in this moment, that Elladan stood and Celebrian stirred, and once more the noise of the river below them became audible once again. Elladan took his mother from Elrohir and place her gently into Elrond's.

"Do what is needed. We fear an arrow is poisoning her body and soul. Here is the arrow we found in her side."

Thrusting the arrow into Elrond's hands, Elladan turned and flew back into the house. 

Much growing has one done, but the other seems to have gone backwards, though Elrond, looking at the arrow in his hand. Then he too turned, running as he could back to care for his wife. 

He left Elrohir, standing as he had in his blood and anger, tore between his two greatest loves. Placing his bow, quiver and dagger on the bridge, he sat were he had landed. 

Waiting, 

As the voices of Rivendell once more stirred from their sleep. 


	10. The Last Debate

Disclaimer: I dis any claim to Lord of the Rings, thus resulting in this disclaimer

****

Celebrian, Wife of Elrond, and the Heir of Sauron

Fireweilder

The darkness was again coming. It whipped and lashed and stung and bite, forcing and pulsing the death like a bad image. The darkness now was no more. There in its place was he. He had come again, to finish what he had wanted. His darkness was too powerful again. And even in dreams, he ravaged her again and again.

"Celebrian?"

The darkness faded, his face being the last of relinquishing horror. It was replaced by he face of Elrond, her once loving husband. No, he was still so. The darkness had lied to her, telling her he was dead, forgotten and unfaithful. They had showed her images of more darkness, his pale flesh devoured by his carrion birds, and his soul being mourned by three other lovers. The darkness was returning. 

"Celebrian! No, stay with me. He isn't here, Celebrian! They are dreams, visions, never truths. Sauron's darkness holds no truth. Fight back for the light!"

She snapped awake, her eyes inches away from Elrond's. She sat there staring. They were not as she remembered. She had thought they were brown eyes, hazed in a red, the pupil was burning. Then the outer started to burn. All was burning. He eye consumed her.

A sharp sting ran across her face. Looking back, she saw her husband, was he still?, arm raised above her. Standing the darkness around her no longer, she tore through the room, thrashing wildly. 

Elrond gazed after her white body, shining against the light of Rivendell. He slowly put his hand back down.

"Tis thrice, father. Shall we find her again?" sneered Elrohir, shrouded in darkness.

For the past month, Elrohir had possessed the foolish idea that Elrond was purposefully making Celebrian worse. Elladan was the only peacekeeper between them. Indeed, had he not been there, either Elrond or Lord Elrohir would have been dead by the other's hand. But Elrond was too weary today to even begin to fight him. His passed the lord silently and tore the same path as his wife.

****

He had found her as he always had, wandering mindlessly through the eves of the woods. Twice she had sung, from the lay of Luthien to the elven prayer to the song beyond the sea. Always in mourning she was, her tears marking her trail and her wails echoing into the woods. But this time was different. She had not sung, nor did her tears littler her way. But still she was there.

In a clearing, she appeared, spread out among the leaves and grass below the canopy above. Ages ago there had been water in that clearing, but ages ago it was befouled by Orcs of Morgoth. Some say it once held the waters of their awaking, but now none could be certain.

As Elrond stepped lightly as ever into the clearing, she lifted her head and laid it upon her enfolded arms. Strange would not even begin to define her mood in that eve. Crazed she as, an ill replaceable darkness was embedded in her heart and eyes. He feared she was indeed lost forever to him

"Why my love? Out to wandering again? Oh, you never did like to wander, my love. Always the straight line for the noble elf lord. Well, who would no better then I the price of wanderings? No one, that's who! No, my little half blood, stay on course! Fly hence away!" sang Celebrian, a beast of some sort entrusted around her tongue. 

Suddenly, she flung herself at him. Lost, Elrond could do nothing but hold her.

"Lost." Whispered Celebrian, between tears

"Nothing yet is lost my love" whispered Elrond

"No? Truly you have gone mad in my steed. It is my time Elrond.," she said, breaking from his tight embrace. "This is my time of revelation. This is my time…of purpose. It is now found. No more joy do I find here, love. Please, I beg of you to let me go."

Elrond could no longer contain his guise. He broke down into his own bitter tears. 

"Tomorrow, I shall sail. Wilt thou come?"

"No," Elrond wept, "and I say no because of what I said before. I a still bound here by some will."

"Will you wait for me?" asked Celebrian, raising his head, his eyes to hers

"Till the end of time." Said Elrond, clasping her in an embrace


	11. The End of the Begining

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Disclaimer: If I have to disclaim anything more then I do, I think I'll snap. 

****

Notes: These notes go purely to reviewer _Arabella Throne _with whom I have a bone to pick. Darling, it is called imagination. I write things that require imagination to fulfill the gaps. Usually I leave these gaps purposefully, to allow the reader a certain amount of leeway unto how they take it. Do not look to me for answers on Elven physiology or ways in which they survive blood lose because I have my own ideas about that. Your job is too read and think up of your own ways to explain fantasies. I fear explaining things because it pisses me off when people want it. It takes away from the freedom that is writing. 

****

*****

Celebrian, Wife of Elrond and the Heir of Sauron

Fireweilder

"Thus," it occurred to Elrond, "the last of that which is fair has left. My sons are no longer so and my wife…"

Looking past the silver mist that hovered on the banks, he could still strain to see the white ship bobbing in front of him, taunting him. Taunting now to a point where it was a near joke. Oh, how the simplest thought of unending peace in his wife's embrace would chill his marrow, sending his mind reeling in pain. He was tore not unlike his once son, between two which he love; the land beneath him and the family in front of him. But the choice didn't seem to even belong to him. 

Glancing sidelong, he caught the eyes of Elladan, looking straight at Elrond. It took time before Elrond could feel his head raising to meet them straight on. So the growing is done then, he thought, both sons are now lords and they no longer think so much of their old father. 

"_I wouldn't say that_" replied Elladan. 

__

"I am glad to know you speak for your self, but I doubt above all reason your brother will willingly feel the same way as you."

At this Elladan could not respond. It was true the Elrohir had distanced himself from all the family, some vain attempt to deal with this pain alone was consuming his mind more rapidly the darkness of Middle- Earth had taken Celebrian. Even now, he stood at the water's edge, the water dampening his black robes. 

Elrond sighed. Everything had turned wrong from the day of her departure. And what of his daughter, Arwen? Had not she too been kept in the dark this whole time, not to be told the entire story of what had happened for nine months? Elrond knew it was wrong to keep this from her, but he felt he needed to save her. He had already lost his sons. He would die if he lost her too. 

"Father?" asked a tentative voice in his ear. Elrond turned on Elladan standing at the shore's edge. But he had not spoken.

"Father?" 

Shocked at the defeated voice coming from his son's mouth startled him. Elrohir was not only defeated but to a point where he was no crying. Elrond knew what would come. But suddenly he found he did not need to hear it. 

"Father, I…I can not apologize…enough." But Elrond grasped his newfound son in a tight embrace so that no more was even said. 

"No matter son, it is forgiveness not from me that you should seek. It is both from I that I beg for your forgiveness." Gasped Elrond between tears.

But Elrohir would hear nothing of it. He simply held his father tighter, as a small child would to his mother. 

Thus was the last picture of Celebrian witnessed on Middle- Earth. Her son and husband, both lost the found again. It pained her to know that to cause of both their sufferings had been her. Had she not left…had she not left, how different would this future be? What new horrors will her loved ones face now because of her?

Glancing past her embracing love ones, she saw to her dismay, Elladan, crouched at the water's edge. The mist was enveloping her, thus his face was obscured both by mist and tears. How unfair was this to him? She had made him grow to an extent that was on the verge of madness. One day she left, he was but still a child. Such, such a light she remembers in his eyes

But no longer, she feared. Elrohir may have been found but I fear that Elladan is lost forever. 

With the last thought, the music of the Void collapsed al previous thoughts and forever turned her mind away from the darkness of the East. 

On the shore, creatures watched, each spilling their silent tears.

****

*End of Book One*


	12. A note to All Readers

Ladies and Gents, I have decided to take a little break from my favorite story for a bit since I need to start paying attention to my other stuff and not to mention, start some new stuff. This is just a housekeeping note. I am sorry to tell you all this but oh well. I am glad to all of you that have found some joy…or horror in my story. I hope you all will come back very soon.

__

Fireweilder

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P.S. If any of you would like for me to E- mail you when I up date, say so in your review. 

****

P.P.S I also suggest that you all and go see _Two Towers _as soon as humanly possible. Though it isn't as true to the book as one Tolkien fanatic might want, it makes up for it with amazing visuals and effects that will dazzle the mind. Also it has a lot of great lines and shots of different characters. Gimli turns out to take Pippin's place of being the comedic relief of the story with some funny ass lines such as when he turns to Aragorn and asks him to toss him, but don't tell the elf. Any way, have a happy holidays and GO AND SEE THE MOVIE!


	13. The Begining of the End

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Disclaimer: If you know how to say f*** off in elvish, insert here.  
_Note:_ There is a lot of _Silmarillion_ and date stuff in these chapters and I plan to use I through out the rest of this story. The dates are true if you care to look them up. As for the _Silmarillion_, it's your own fault if you haven't read it.  
**  
Celebrian, Wife of Elrond, and he Heir of Sauron  
Fireweilder  
**  
**Book Two**

  
I am Raksha. I was born of an elvish wretch in 2510, created in 2954. I am a bastard child and a slave. Yet I and I alone will rule.   
  
I am Raksha. Know it well, for it is but the sound of impending doom.  
  
When Sauron first beheld me, I was his shock and horror of what I was, the product of that which never should have coupled. I am an immortal, elvish, fair and wise, and Maiar, a lesser that of Gods. But Sauron found me less then capable, for what use would a woman be in his service. Grasping me by my neck, he flung me out into his dead land, leaving me for Wrags and Orcs flesh. But I had scared him, for how his hands were black, stained with his kin's blood. So alike they were now, that of Sauron and Morgoth. Now even their hands were united in blackness.  
  
But I did not die as Sauron had decreed. Powerful he knew I would become, yet still weak as all females were said to be. But he was a fool, trusting too much in what he thought. So he left me to a worse death then that of Mordor's darkness. He gave me willingly to his Nazgul pets, the three living in the Tower of Terror. It is legend or so the wind tells me, that the dust has not yet settled in Mordor from the dark years where I was imprisoned in Minas Morgul. My screams were ever present in that land for 444 years, forcing the monstrous Orcs to cower on the ground, growing daily madness. It was the terror of the Nazgul that made me scream but those dark days were lost in my mind. My creation purged them from my former life.  
  
It is said in Middle- Earth, that though I was not heard, my screams brought an uncounterable winter of 2758, though the people blamed into on the mischief of Sauron.   
  
To some, they were untrusting of my tales of my life. What evil wind existed in Mordor, which would whisper dealings of my past to me? Indeed, it seemed as though I possessed certain omnipotence about dealings of the wild world. Yet, they were from three winds, neither that gave it to me willingly. My keepers, the Nazgul, were once men, some kings of Middle- Earth, some of Numenor, thus having great knowledge. Of all the ages but first, I was learned in history amid my terror, for they would gloat their fine history under Sauron's deceits.   
  
The other was the Dark Lord himself, from whom I learned much if not all of the first age and the fall of Morgoth and of Feanor and his lust of his Silmarils. But that was not until later, after my creation. The last was the Elf Lord Elrond, but his story would be jumping to far forward in time, for his information didn't come till much of my history was wasted.   
  
But it was there in my near final moment, that I finally was taught the fire of the Maiar. The Lord had found that my existence had been a waste of his time, and even a waste to that of his pets. He ordered them to kill me in whatever way possible. To this decree, they feared greatest of all, for they would have to fight me in order to slay me. At the time, I understood not why they feared this. It was not until the waning of the third age that it became light to me.   
  
But it was their decision they would fight me on the pike of Minas Morgul, hoping rather to toss me from the edge them fight me for long. Thus it was in this moment, when the advancement of my keepers blackened the stars that never shone, that I at long last stop me screams.   
  
Orcs crept back from their holes and an eerie silence that foretold evil things afoot covered the land. The ash still churned from the voice. Even Sauron on his high horse, dared to look my way, a smile dancing on his lips. Death, he had had thought, had finally come to me. But as he strained his eye, he say that it was not so. There I stood, clothed only in my own radiance, wielding a demented dagger as if it was Narsil itself. From this he shrank with fear, nearly retreating to his lower caverns.  
  
But one before had never defeated his pets and he did not plan to lose them to some mutt. Slowly, the Nazgul retreated one by one as they all failed to subdue my wrath. So Sauron appeared before me, but I did not bow as was expected of me. I stood facing him with both eyes. His wrath nearly matched mine at this treason of his spawn, so he smote my left eye red, like his that I should only see properly with one, maiming me a Maiar beauty.  
  
But even as Sauron feared me, some lingering memory of this past servitude, welling up one again the depths of his kin's heart. Thus, he saw what he had created, a servant with a greater power then he had foreseen. He let me live that night, but still refused with every passing day, not to give the heirship I deserved.   
  
After years had passed on wings, Sauron gave to me a gift. The gift, he said, was to be my choice. Anything, from this world to the next. But I told him then something he did not expect. I asked for a form, terrible in all its slender. He questioned; knowing any form a half Maiar contrives to be terrible enough. But to make a terrifying form, would be a death seeking trial.   
  
It was in his darkness that the Dark Lord summoned all his knowledge o ages past, of vast and terrible forms he had seen or even taken on himself. He thought to the Balrogs, his past master's personal servants, demons of fire and Darkness and of the form of Ungoliant. But they were not new though they were terrible indeed to behold. Then he smiled to himself in his darkness, recalling the terror of old.   
  
Thus it was to pass that for unending years I was tortured in the very fires of Orodruin. It would be futile to explain in words of Elvish, common, or that of old what pain there was that consumed by body and mind. Evil things were awoken in me and worse things were strengthened. But when at last the time of awaking came for me, I rose greater then any before me.  
  
I am Raksha, body and mind a mockery of that of Arien, a Valar of old, most feared in the mind of Sauron.  
  



	14. The Summon of Mordor

  
Disclaimer: LOOK BEHIND YOU! Goes running away to Middle Earth where the nosey people who care can't find me  
  
**Celebrian, Wife of Elrond, and the Heir to Sauron  
Fireweilder**  
  
Though death could await no Valar or Maiar, it was death that Sauron would beg for before then end was near. Even now when his power was waxing, he begged. The knowledge that somewhere in the wide world his ring, his counterpart, was lost. Should the ring fall, I later learned, into he hands of those who were powerful, the world would fall to a second darkness, under a different lord. I cared not for the trifles of my fath…of Sauron.  
  
It was after my creation that I started to be able to control my dreams. Before, they would run me wild, terror controlling everything. They say I would shriek horribly during my sleep, even louder then any waking could bring. But now formed around me, a growing madness in form of sanity. It was coupled with the hate, if hate it was, that I tasted for Sauron.   
  
He had taught me well in those years. I was taught to wield a sword and dagger but I was advanced in the area of darts. Darts were not accustomed to Middle Earth and not well known in battle. But I became deadlier armed with iron darts, one Mithril, one gold, then any bowman had ever before me. I recall crouched on Minas Morgul, smiting Orcs and other foul beasts that dared to come with in my sight.   
  
I was on this day that Sauron himself ordered an audience with me in the high tower of Bara -dur. Since it was never that Sauro called for me unless it was for his own gain, I prepared myself in my splendor he had created. Armed and wrathful, I entertained his summon. Sauron rose before me.  
  
"Demon," he cried, a fake sweetness dancing on his lips," I have taught to that of old, of my master's victory with me by his side. Of my corruption of Middle Earth that shall once more repeat its self. But you know as well as I that I still do not rest. You know of what I speak."  
  
"I do. And I know what it is that I am summoned here. You would have me be but a pet. Go and fetch your ring. What next? Your entire kingdom under the earth? Or I suppose you will hen request the land of the Valinor itself."  
  
"Should you accept this willingly, I will bestow this upon you," sneered Sauron, reaching behind his throne and retrieving a sword of incredible age. "Though you know nothing of it, it has been in my keeping for many years. 444 to be exact."  
  
Taking the sheath in my hand, I saw the blade was not as old as the horrid scabbard made it appear. In fact, it looked as though it was newly forged. But it was not that of Mordor, for he blade was soft, light, yet even as it run down my hand, a great power was made apparent inside of it's core.   
  
"'Tis a strange weapon to find in you custody. Indeed, I see now this weapon was not forged by you nor your smiths. This is an elvish sword." I said, looking up at Sauron with amazement. To find a weapon of elvish wrought in the clutches of my fath… Sauron, was a strange thing to behold. It was then that I noticed his hand smoking. A sneer crept up my face.  
  
"I see you did not pay cheap for this then." I laughed  
  
Sauron leaped up, a horrid face pulled. "Begone! Do what I have ordered thee. And do not look for welcomings should you come back one handed. Begone!"  
  
With that, he turned from me and sauntered back to his caverns, nursing his burned hand, leaving me to stand there, lost in an ancient tale this sword chanted to me.  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
